


my blood approves (kisses are a better fate than wisdom)

by opheliahyde



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Homophobia, M/M, POV Second Person, Past Child Abuse, Sibling Incest, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4121461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliahyde/pseuds/opheliahyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five kisses between brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my blood approves (kisses are a better fate than wisdom)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scorpiod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/gifts).



> For the prompt _Baisemain: A kiss on the hand_
> 
> Title from e.e. cummings' poem "Since feeling is first".

seth punches you, and you think it’s a punch you’ve earned, harsh across your jaw, weighted with resentment, thrust at you with anger; it hurts, not as much as it should, would, if you were human, but you grip your jaw, mouth twisting, cocking to the side as seth stares at you, wild-eyed and heaving, hair grown long, bristling like the growth across his jaw, burning and alive, his heart pounding in your head.

 _hello, brother_ , you say, and seth comes at you with his mouth, colliding it with yours, kissing hard and delving deep, like he could uncover you with his tongue, curling and thrusting against the roof of your mouth, like he could steal something of you, a piece for keeps.

 _fuck you_ , he spits, yanking his mouth away, but still, he holds on.

 

 

 

 

 

first job, hit on a convenience store half the city away from your neighborhood, and seth crackles beside you, shaking and shuddering like he’s trying to wriggle out of his skin, or burst open; you feel it too, the adrenaline like white-hot electricity burning through your veins, tingling at your fingertips.

seth goes for your mouth, but you stop him with your hand, fingers spread out across his collarbone. there are rules, you agreed: no kissing on jobs.

but seth wraps his hand around your wrist, sliding up and pulling your hand away, folding it into his–-he drags his mouth around your knuckles, opens your hand up to to press his lips to your palm. your hand is slick when he twists your hand into the handshake you built and perfected in the long nights under the covers, in the dark, waiting to hear heavy snores, loud enough to know your father had passed out and the coast was clear.

(he kisses you after, mouth red and bloodied where the clerk had clocked him and he tastes like copper pennies, warm and slick, bleeding into you like you hadn’t shared the same affliction, the same disease.

it’s not a lot of cash, just enough to keep you going for a month, maybe two, but it’s a score; seth laughs against your mouth, you remember that, years down the line, when seth’s locked up, how seth laughed and bled and kissed you, and how it felt better than the money in your hands.)

 

 

 

 

 

seth is thirteen and hormone-stricken, unable to keep his hands off you–or his lips.

they land on your cheek and chin, across your forehead to your temple, at the crown of your head, the back of your neck when he jumps and throws himself on your back, too small and scrawny for his age.

( _malnutrition_ , the doctor told uncle eddie, handing over a list of foods he should eat, vitamins he should take–-eddie had brought the food, but you stole the vitamins after school, stuffing the bottles in your backpack once the aisle was clear; seth swallows them down at breakfast, eyeing you with eyes that have grown dark and hooded, glances that make heat scorch your skin and make you itch, uncomfortable in your body that’s growing too fast for you to get used to, tripping over your own feet, knocking too long arms and legs.)

seth kissed your hand every night before you slept, pressed close on the lumpy pull-out, seth’s jagged body digging into the tender parts of yours, his mouth on the heel of your palm, working out to brush the pads of your fingers against his lips. he slipped into sleep after, curling his fingers around yours, his breath damp and hot on your neck.

it wasn’t hard to see it coming, seth tugging you against him with a hard grip on the back of your neck–inevitable, like most things (your teachers keep shoving opportunities at you, extracurriculars, tutoring, things that look good on a college resume–but you can’t grab onto them, flimsy fluttering pieces of paper, when you know already where you’re headed), like fate, and you don’t fight him, don’t shove him back like you did the first time he put his mouth on yours.

( _i love you_ , seth breathes into your mouth, and you swallow it down, let it burn a hole in your gut.)

 

 

 

 

 

you kiss seth’s hands that night, tucked away in a no-name, hole-in-the-wall motel across the border of texas, heart thumping hard enough to crack your ribs open and a voice in your head that fades the more you touch your brother’s skin. they’re thicker and rougher, battered and scraped, and you lay your lips over each cut, like when you were kids and thought somehow that would make a difference.

seth leans his forehead on yours, his fingertips running over the fullness of your bottom lip, whispering in rough, cracked tones,  _hey, hey, brother, i’ve got you_ , reaching to brush away the wetness that had broken from your eyes and crept over your cheeks.

you don’t know how to say  _no, i’ve got you_ , like you’ve always had, when you don’t know if you have yourself, the fear of losing grip making you grab on tight, with both hands, and hope it’s enough, hope you don’t float away and lose your brother again.

 

 

 

 

 

you’re seven years old and it’s your first kiss, seth’s hands gripping around your arms and pressing his lips on yours and pulling away just as quick as he’d done it, smiling and bright-eyed despite the shadowed bruising smudging his right cheek.

it was dangerous, even then, though you hadn’t realized it, how far it would go–you shoved him back (careful, gentle; you’re seven years old and you already know how breakable your brother can be), told him _boys don’t kiss other boys_ (cause you’ve seen what happens when they do, remembered the weight of your father’s arm around your neck, the sour bitterness of his breath filling your nose as he made you watch as they took the man apart with curled fist and heavy boots, whispering,  _pay attention, richard, this is what happens to fucking faggots_ ).

seth had looked at you for the first time with his jaw set and his eyes sharp.

 _i did it because i love you_ , he tells you,  _that’s what you do if you love someone_.

you let it stand.

(you should have told him,  _that’s not how brothers say i love you._ ) 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://richiesseth.tumblr.com)!


End file.
